


Lost Boy

by crinkledpages



Series: Let's pretend we love the dark [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Donghyuck needs his services, Doyoung is a witch who can rewrite deaths, M/M, Magic Shops, Not entirely sure how I thought this up but here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crinkledpages/pseuds/crinkledpages
Summary: “You didn’t say your price,” he pauses to say, holding the cup just shy of his mouth. “I’ll drink after I hear it.”The boy laughs and it tings like crystal when hit by a spoon. “A kiss.”“Excuse me?”“A human kiss. That’s my price.”
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Series: Let's pretend we love the dark [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905010
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> For SVT Fear Exchange's Septemfear drabble challenge:)
> 
> Day 2: Nightshade
> 
> I really liked writing this one! Who'd have thought I'd ever write such a rare pair like Doyoung/Donghyuck?

For a price, the blacksmith would do anything.

According to the rumour mill, anyway. 

But if he goes according to the rumour mill, then he is also a wizened old man with a crooked nose and long fingers marred by arthritis, clawed in odd angles. He wears a pince-nez. He smells like the rotting fish at the harbour. The list goes on and it's starting to sound like a fairytale and nothing else.

Donghyuck honest-to-god hopes that isn’t the case. Because he desperately needs this last resort to work out. The black circle of desperation is caving in around him. Nowhere to turn, very soon. Just him lost in an endless spiral of servitude if this option ended up another dead-end. 

The shop bell tinkles lightly when he pushes it open. Dark green lamps light the store in a haunting emerald glow. Something almost monstrous in the way that the colour they filtered out was almost black, like the store doesn’t actually need any light at all, merely there for theatrics.

“Lost Boy.” A voice trickles through the shadowy-green room. 

It takes another five seconds for his eyes to adjust to the new setting, and then he finds he can indeed locate the shop counter with considerable ease. 

A boy sits at the desk, square-framed glasses perched on a very round button nose - far from pointed or crooked - and a quill loosely fitted between long fingers. He spares a downward peek - nope, no arthritis going on either. 

“Hi. Um, is Mr. Kim in?”

“Mr. Kim?” He repeats, a lilt in his voice. 

“Yeah. Maybe he goes by Blacksmith Kim here?”

“We are all Mr. Kim here,” the boy says as he picks up a mug and pours green sludge from a teapot into it. It’s thick and gooey and bubbles a little. He sips on it steadily as he fastens a penetrating gaze on Donghyuck. 

“We?” 

There’s a sudden cold draft although the door and the single window on the far end of the shop are pulled shut. He looks about for a second, but the boy before him seems to loom larger the longer he looks at him. The locket around his neck is icy cold against his throat. He scratches at it through his shirt. 

“Lost Boy.” He says again. “What do you need?”

“I...I need Mr. Kim...you?” he stutters out in confusion. 

“What. Not who.”

“I need you to write the ending to a life. I know you can. I know you...you have.”

The boy tuts, clicks his tongue in a way that makes the sound sharp and shrill when it hits his ears. “I only rewrite endings. I do not write them from scratch. They must have two feet in the grave, first.”

“What will you need from me to write one then? I’m willing to give anything.” To end a life, to murder. 

“Come, let me look at you,” he beckons him forward, and Donghyuck weaves around the counter that separates them so that he’s standing a couple of feet before him. 

With a clear view, he sees that a ring of dried leaves surrounds him. He’s draped in a full black cloak, with metal chains wrapped around his ankles like shackles that loop and disappear into the mound of leaves. On his wrists - strokes of deep red lashes carved deep into the pale skin. 

Donghyuck is afraid to know what he truly is. Maybe this is a bad idea, after all. 

“Your locket. Give it to me.” 

“That’s your payment?”

He mere extends a hand out to his face. “Locket.”

When he unclips it from his neck is when he realises how unnaturally cold it actually is against his fingers. It dangles between them until Kim snatches it, opens it to examine the crest etched inside. 

“Nightshade,” he smiles, and nods to himself.

He looks up at him, reaching out to cup his chin and twist it left and right, like he’s a specimen. 

“Payment will be made upfront, before completion of the job.”

Donghyuck lets out a throaty sigh of relief. “So you’ll do it? You’ll help me?”

“I will, Lost Boy. But we seal the deal first.” He picks up the teapot and procures a brand new mug from thin air. “Drink.”

“What’s that?” He asks suspiciously. 

“It doesn’t matter, because you’ll have to drink it anyway.” He pushes the cup into his hands, the viscous green liquid barely sloshing because it is that thick. 

Donghyuck is clearly disgusted, but he steels himself. He’s come this far, so what was one awful cup of tea?

“You didn’t say your price,” he pauses to say, holding the cup just shy of his mouth. “I’ll drink after I hear it.”

The boy laughs and it tings like crystal when hit by a spoon. “A kiss.”

“Excuse me?”

“A human kiss. That’s my price.”

Donghyuck stares. “It’s that easy?”

“Is it?”

Donghyuck must think so, because he leans forward with a little bit more enthusiasm than he’d envisioned he'd have when having to kiss a complete stranger, and a witch, at that. The blacksmith, however, keeps him at arm’s length with one hand held out. 

“What’s with you? You said you wanted a kiss, didn’t you?”

The boy regards him in wonder. “You really are a lost Nightshade, aren’t you?” He taps a finger on Donghyuck’s wrist. “Once you drink that, you won’t be human anymore. And I’ll steal that. Your last human kiss. Do you know how much that is worth?”

Donghyuck shivers, looking between the locket, then the inhuman blacksmith, and finally, the door. He can't go back, not now that he knows this is possible.

"Why do you keep calling me Nightshade?"

"Why else would I call you that if it wasn't your name?"

Donghyuck realises that he's not going to share anything helpful at all if he doesn't drink. 

He takes a closer step to the boy, tips the cup towards his lips and gulps down the horrid liquid that will somehow peel away his human-ness. 

It’s surprisingly sweet as it goes down his throat. There’s a minty aftertaste, and he squeezes his eyes shut when it travels up his nose and splices his head into an icy cold bath. 

The cup crashes and shatters onto the floor, green remnants dotting the ground and shards as he screams as pure pain shoots through his entire body. "The fuck is this!"

The boy simply hums like he’s expected this. He pulls a dazed Donghyuck towards him, smudges his thumb across his cheek. “Let me kiss it better,” he smirks, and presses soft lips to Donghyuck’s. Donghyuck doesn't move to fight him at all. The pain is too great in his head and in his bones, and all he wants is for it to stop.

 _Doyoung_ , a voice in his head whispers as the pain begins to wither away and he feels a tickling of leaves worming about his ankles. _You can call me Doyoung now._

**Author's Note:**

> [my twt](https://twitter.com/moonkyoung_)


End file.
